


par Hazard

by tokyonightskies



Category: MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers are a family who take care of their own, Blowjobs, Haywire!Powers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rutting, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:21:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokyonightskies/pseuds/tokyonightskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce subscribes an experimental diet based on several  components which were deduced as being beneficial to his overall functioning on the basis of meticulous analysis of his blood. Aesir were not like humans.</p>
<p>Not that Thor needed a reminder of the fact.</p>
<p>Furthermore, Tony declared as he proudly presented his training schedule, the training room has been tweaked to withstand small-scaled lightning attacks and Thor would be monitored an hour a day as he practices with Mjölnir. Also, he had continued, they have deemed the probability of pent-up frustration detrimental to his overall discipline and propose a regime of stress relief.</p>
<p>Clint upon this, incredulously asked if there would be yoga sessions involved in the grand scheme of things.</p>
<p>Quick to reply, Bruce had assured there wouldn't be. However, he was also quick to add, punching bags are obligatory as an increase in hand-to-hand combat.</p>
<p>Thor automatically assumed, correctly, that Steve would be involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	par Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> For Shadowkai45 @ tumblr, whose prompts have inspired me yet again to write.
> 
> (Also, this shouldn't have mutated this horribly, I thought I could fit it into 2k and now look at me.)

Rain pelts down upon the large, rectangular windows mercilessly, cold water rivets down the glass in uneven curls, leaving untold questions in undecipherable swirly scribbles in its wake and the incessant battering of the downpour is accompanied by loud, primal percussion, rolling thunder rumbles from ash-faced faceless clouds and reverberates in the hollow of his stomach.

Thor bristles, tightening his hold on the sleek metal tabletop until his knuckles are as white as the bone underneath the stretched skin. His head aches from power sloshing through the tubes of his veins, lazily traversing the distance from the crown of his head onto his curling bare toes. Lightning flashes violently, contrasting bright against the shadowed darkness of the cumulonimbus, which surges onwards, swallowing tidbits of blue sky. Barely, Thor can distinguish Mjölnir crackling with energy from the clothing peg where he laid her to rest. Restlessly and excited, his weapon beckons him, rolling wave after wave of pure, unbridled electricity over the expanse of his palms.

She has never been this volatile before, he thinks to himself, furrowed brow and scrunched nose. Another violent rumble shocks him into unsteady movement, leaning over the surface of the table in inexplicable pain. He buries the button of his nose into the hollow of his elbow as he closes his eyes and wills the storm away. However, the storm fights him every step along the way, varying between outbursts of tennis ball-sized hail, colliding harshly with the windows and leaving smudges of fractured ice behind, and sweeps of wind, groaning and moaning along the telltale drum of thunder.

Mjölnir mocks him silently in the corner of the common room, differentiating between her usual gray pallor and a sharp electric blue. He resists her call to release all this power bubbling up inside of him, pooling in his gut, coiling in his throat, raking talons over the inside of his mind.

"You okay, big guy?" Someone, Clint, asks and his footsteps are mere soft thuds, almost rendered inaudible by the wind and thunder.

Something warm settles between his shoulder blades, Clint's body heat blazes through the thin material of the shirt he's currently wearing, and casts a pleasant distraction on the migraine he's currently experiencing.

His reply is a grunt, coming from deep within his throat. Thor turns his head so he can view his concerned teammate leaning over him, a trickle of genuine worry pricking needle-points in the blueish gray of his irises.

He clarifies shortly, "Merely.." Another deafening clap of thunder, followed shortly by a glaring lightning bolt. His hand moves over his eyes and nose, "A headache."

" _Shit_ , I don't even wanna see what happens when you get the flu." Clint is silent for a brief moment, rubbing his chin in contemplation with his available hand, "Can you  _even_  catch the flu? Whatever..." His palm moves to the Asgardian's shoulder, tugs slowly, "We should see Banner. 'Cause I sincerely doubt aspirins are gonna cut it with you."

Thor massages the bridge of his nose, a spark of energy runs rampart inside his chest and crashes into his abdomen. He shudders upright, the long blond hairs loose from his ponytail stick to his sweat-soaked forehead and a ragged breath leaves him.

Clint, who backed away in reflex to the sudden movement, stares at his alien teammate and shifts his gaze to the weather outside. Splotches of light blue cut apart the cotton-like cloud and heavy drops of rain dwindle to mere pinstripes, before they disappear all together.

Oxygen floods Thor's lungs and he feels considerably better, momentarily ignoring the slight tremor of his hands and the dull pain at the back of his head.

"What was  ** _that_**  about?" Taking tentative footsteps in the direction of his teammate, the archer scrutinizes his posture with a keen, perceptive eye.

Wiping the glistening strands out of his eyes, Thor gives a dismissive reply, "Pardon me, my friend. I was not feeling well, but I'm considerably better now." He manages a small reassuring smile.

Clint says nothing, crosses his arms in front of his hands and observes all the natural cues Thor's body is transmitting. He decides he'll talk to Banner if such an event occurs again.

.

"Widow, stick with me. Stark, get the drones.. Hawkeye, I need an overview, I trust you can secure a safe position." Steve presses his earpiece closer with gloved fingertips, staring at the marching humanoid creatures holding highly sophisticated weapons.

Tony chuckles, whirling past a triangular shaped drone, twirls around his own axis and uses his beams to destroy the engine attached to the back. " ** _Gotcha_** , chief." His thrusters propel him forwards, over Broadway.

"Must be a Tuesday." Clint laments while he's making his way to the top of a skyscraper. Simultaneously climbing and shooting arrows at a few wayward aliens, the archer groans, "Tell me Banner gets to play. Dracula premiers tonight."

Natasha readies her aim and strikes down two adversaries, whips her head around to look at Steve and frowns when she spots Thor crashing down the avenue, Mjölnir steady in his hands. She breathes out, "What the-" Before jumping backwards at the sheer force of Thor's blow.

Electricity slithers over the concrete in differentiating shades of blue, alternating between almost white and the color of the sky. Nearly toppling over, Steve grabs onto his shield and stumbles over to a nearby car, turned onto its passenger side. Soon the spy joins him as they watch another wave of high voltage paralyze the aliens from the waist downwards, causing them to fall down. Thor goes on, undeterred, maneuvering himself between those still fighting.

"Thor,  _do you copy_?" Captain America asks, throwing a worried glance at Natasha's bleeding arm. "You should be near the bridge. Thor?!" His hold on his shield tightens until the sharp edge presses into the fabric of his gloves.

Natasha shakes her head, " _Don't interfere_."

He sets his jaw and grits his teeth; Thor is absolutely livid, smashing his weapon onto the sidewalk to unleash a second flurry of lightning bolts. They crackle loudly despite the constant buzzing of their drones whizzing by. Some aliens ooze a greenish fluid from their wounds, others are reduced to mashed-up faces and smattered limbs.

Steve tries again, "Thor?! Stop  **now**!"

His communicator beeps and the noise overtakes his eardrum and steadily hums into his brain. Tony pipes up, "Got another fleet comin', Cap. Could use some backup." His breathing is unsteady, yet his voice tries to reflect some inner evenness. Steve isn't buying it and, after another meaningful look in the spy's direction, bolts from behind the car into the fray.

He raises his shield to ward off the beams from the humanoids' weapons, they seem alike to those of the Iron Man suit, but the captain isn't completely sure.

"Thor!" He's screaming now, at the top of his lungs, "Stop now!" He goes faster, clanging his shield into an alien's head to push him out of his way. "That's an order, soldier!"

It's at that exact moment he gets to examine the god's features, wrinkled in such unparalleled anger and flushed, contrasting against his straw blond hair. He pulls one of his enemies closer to him by the straps of their armor and curls his right arm around the creature's neck. Steve tries to focus on his surroundings and not on how his teammate twisted the alien's neck in an impossible angle, nor how the fallen enemies sinks to the ground hacking and coughing. Thor sweeps Mjölnir against the side of its head, effectively fracturing its skull into blood-stained bits and pieces.

He turns to another adversary, who has its weapon raised and wiry scaled finger on the tourniquet, and as he's about to slam his hammer into the creature's torso, Steve acts on instinct and throws his shield as a disc, watching as it clacks against Mjölnir and bounces backs. He moves forwards to catch his shield, crouches in order to prevent it to fall onto the broken ground and glares up at Thor, who seems somewhat roused from his stupor.

His brows arch as he speaks unsurely, appearing somewhat dazed, "Captain?"

" _Up_! Now! Stark needs..." He quickly turns to intercept a fiery green beam aimed at them with his shield, continues giving his order, "-He needs you up in the sky! Go!"

Not needed to be told twice, the Asgardian swirls his hammer and bolts into the sky at a frightening pace, until he's reduced to a speck of red and silver.

Steve rushes his breath between his teeth and takes in the sight of the remaining forces. They're scattered into threes and fours to his left and right. He stands upright and adjusts his shield, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Natasha, who's analyzing the situation behind the toppled car. He sees her dual guns and smirks, knowing she has his back. Steve surges forwards, taking a couple aliens by surprise by the sudden movement.

Tony's voice flickers between the static of his earpiece, " _Hey, hey, look_  who joined the flying circus! Good to finally see the cavalry, Shakespeare."

Clint updates him from his spot, "Took down a small carrier, they seem to be on the retre- Woah, Thor's on fire today.."

"He looks way pissed. Did someone step on his cape?" Tony quips, chuckling as he takes down another one of the drones.

Plummeting his fist into an enemy's face, Steve quickly swirls to slam his shield into another's midriff. "Hawkeye, their movements?"

"No more incoming, seem to be the last of 'em." His statement is accompanied by a roll of thunder and from his peripheral he can detect a flash of bright pale blue.

Clint speaks up again, overshadowing the sound of his bow's string being released, "Something's not quite okay with Thor, Captain. I saw him like this two days ago..."

Stark pipes up, "What are ya talking about? I bet this is the Asgardian equivalent to yoga or something. Let Blondie blow off some steam."

Steve furrows his brow, collecting himself after the aliens in his immediate surroundings were either defeated or on the run. "Widow?"

Natasha's answer comes in a confident tone of voice, "Debrief him  _adequately_ , Cap."

Walking over the debris, looking for possible alien survivors, the captain sighs and complies, "Will do. Will do."

.

Thor's chest feels tight and constricted after he's landed on a partially ruined Times Square, as well does Mjölnir seem heavier in his hand. He's still buzzing from the battle, shaking on his legs from the rush of adrenalin through his entire body and he's afraid of a sensory overload as the scent of the greenish goo those creatures bled steadily fills his nostrils. He spots Iron Man, holding Hawkeye in his arms as they slowly descend from the roof of the skyscraper to the solid ground below. To his right, a defeated drone smolders from his mighty hammer's blow, smoking blackish fumes and harboring dancing flames on its belly.

"... if you so badly want to see Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Merida, I could call some people, y'know." Tony offers as his faceplate retracts to leave his features exposed. His eyes look dead tired but he's free from bruises.

There's still a trickle of fight in him, unsatisfied he turns to his teammates and joins in on their conversation.

"How do you feel, Spitfire?" Stark asks as the suits folds into a portable suitcase.

Thor bristles, "Ready for a couple more rounds, my friend." His energy shows in the loud, jovial tone of his voice.

Clint hums lowly, "You were rather  _active_  today.. But I saw your face scrunch up a couple of times... Another headache?"

He rubs the back of his neck and barks out a laugh, "I managed to distract myself." He clasps his hand on the archer's shoulder and grins widely, but Clint feels the tremor in those strong fingers and frowns lightly. Thor continues, "I am well, Hawkeye, you should not fret."

Tony bends to grasp the handle of his suitcase and whistles to get their attention, "Cap is coming over,  _boy scouts_. Try to look awful so we can skip the boring chitchat and go home. Bruce made a dissertation on gamma rays for the university of New Mexico and he wanted me to beta."

"Why would he want that?" Clint asks, snapping his bow shut.

Tony sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, "Cause I'm special and he likes me best."

Thor regards his teammates bantering back and forth with a sense of heightened urgency. His fingertips strum his hammer's handle quickly, he wants to move, needs to tamper this power stacking onto itself inside of him.

"Thor!" Steve says when he's approached them, staring directly into his eyes with a calculating look, "A word, if I may."

Picking up on the straight, slightly agitated posture of the captain, the billionaire raises an eyebrow, bumps against Clint with the sharp of his elbow and remarks lowly, "Looks like someone got snatched with his hand in the cookie jar."

"Of course, Captain." Thor complies cordially, hooking the strap of his hammer onto his belt and following his leader away from the rubble.

Steve dismisses the other two heroes with a curt nod and a fatigued smile, before turning back to the Asgardian, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He begins, "You were a whirlwind today, Thor." His eyebrows knit together behind the protection of his helmet as he notices how Thor keeps fidgeting, completely incapable of keeping still.

"I apologize for my restlessness, Captain." His fingers strum the metal of his plate, down his sides, as he's positively buzzing, still riding the high of adrenalin and unparallelled power. His grin flexes, stretches a few teeth each side, and he continues, "I was merely following the momentum. Perhaps I got a tad ahead of myself." 

Adjusting his shield, the soldier momentarily sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and weighs his words carefully.

"Did you hear me.  _Out **there**_ , on the field?" His question comes softly, along scrutinizing eyes.

 Thor diverts his gaze, falling between the captain and himself. "I.. No.. No, I did not."

"You're shaking, Thor." Steve points out, hand slowly reaching out. "Hawkeye reported he's seen you in this state before."

Tremors slide slickly over the bare skin of his wrists and he hisses lowly when the migraine returns in full force, a result from the copious amounts of energy bubbling up from his stomach, burning his temples. He squints his eyes shut and forces short, quick pants between the seal of his lips. Above him, he senses clouds gathering and as he raises his chin and turns his face skywards, a lonesome drop of rain splashes between his brows. Steve grabs his elbow, shakes him, all the while calling out his name. Soon a downpour falls down upon his shoulders, unrelenting and ice cold. His name is being chanted by a rattled Steve, a steady rhythm of the same syllable over and over again.

They are joined by Tony, Natasha and Clint, rushing to their sides with worried faces. They're asking questions, their voices mingling into a steady chorus of words he can't understand.

Thor inhales sharply and a roar of thunder echoes between the concrete towers of New York City. His headache lessens and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. "I.. I want to see good doctor Banner."

Holding her injured arm, Natasha analyzes him, her trained eyes detecting his uneasy footing, his labored breathing and his flushed cheeks.

"Do we have a sick god on our hands? Because I don't think my insurance covers that." Tony murmurs, scratching his chin idly.

Steve eases his grip on the blonds’ elbow, "What's going on? Tell us, Thor." He pleads gently, swiping his fingertips over the back of Thor's hand as he places distance between them.

Clint narrows his eyes, reaching for his communicator to contact Bruce. Natasha nods at him, giving him the signal to make the call.

"I believe my powers are growing." He mutters, caging his cheeks between his palms miserably.

Tony whistles lowly, incredulously, before rubbing the bridge of his nose and remarking, "You mean, they're growing out of your control. Great.. Just terrific." He looks directly at the captain and snorts, "We're not telling Fury, are we?"

Steve purses his lips, "Banner can do some preliminary tests." He eyes Thor, "If those don't work out, you might have to consider contacting Asgard."

" _Hopefully_  such a thing will not be necessary." Thor muses, slumping his aching shoulders.

.

Banner gives his verdict after a whole day of intensive testing, comparing samples with previous data and physical exercises in the lab. He cleans his glasses absentmindedly with a paper towel and blinks a few times, tired from staring at screens the entire time. Thor is sitting next to him with electrodes plastered to his temples and to his jugular, just underneath his jaw. Scattered around him, the rest of the team waits, growing restless and pacing holes into the floor.

"He's affected by the climate." Bruce concludes after Tony has skimmed over the results to spot eventual miscalculations.

Of course the billionaire speaks first in response to the declaration, "Are you suggesting our resident god needs a change of scenery? Trip to the Alps? Cruise to Jamaica?" He gestures to the ceiling.

Clint, leaning against the wall close to the holographic screen, uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off, saying, "He's affected by the climate as in it is  ** _poisoning_**  him or he can't handle the United States in particular..." He trails off unsurely.

Natasha remains quiet, shifting closer to Thor's seated frame and offering him her silent support. Bruce shakes his head at all the suggestions Tony's spouting to where they could go on a holiday and taps a few more percentages projected in front of him.

Steve silences Tony effectively by stating, "Let Bruce explain himself, Stark."

"I think it's  _earth_." He replies apprehensively before elaborating, "As in, Clint has a point, but not entirely. He cannot handle earth in general. He's been exposed to our atmosphere for spectacularly longer than before and his system modifies itself to his surroundings. Meaning, Thor is coping with internalized stress to being in a completely different biosphere. His powers are thus beyond his immediate control."

Snapping his chin up, the blond stares at the doctor and ask astonished, "You mean I could become a liability in battle, doctor Banner?"

Waving the statistics away from the screen, Bruce turns to Thor and clarifies, "Not necessarily. You will have to submit yourself to some training to adjust but I don't think you'd be a loose cannon." He scratches his chin and offers, "We could establish a decent schedule immediately if you prefer."

He mulls it over in his head, propping his elbows onto his knees and slumping forwards, "I thank you for your concern, friends." He sighs lowly, "Yet, I would like some peace for my wary mind at this very moment."

Tony purses his lips and states, "Me and Brucie will start planning how to efficiently divide your time while you take a break, Pikachu."

Arching a brow, the archer scoffs, " _Please_ , you don't even follow your own timetable, Stark."

"I also don't have tempest-inducing migraines, Birdie-pie." His retort is accompanied by his usual toothy grin.

Merely rolling his eyes at the entire ordeal, Bruce pats Thor on the shoulder in sympathy and begins inputting the assembled data into the graph. Natasha motions to Clint with a quick movement of her eyes and gestures to the solemn-faced Asgardian. He acknowledges her concealed suggestion and steps forward to his friend, offering his concern and comfort. Natasha follows the archer as he intends to leave the lab, brushes into the Agardian on her way out, conveying that Clint spoke for the both of them in the soft, friendly touch and proffers a phantom of a smile.

Tony tilts his head and crosses his arms, patting his elbows, "You should probably eat somethin', my fridge is disturbingly stacked and quite frankly all that food upsets my sensible tastes." Bruce snorts as he keeps tapping several keys.

However, Steve, who had been contemplating the entire situation, recognizes his teammate's attempts at reaching out and showing he cares about Thor, and breaks from his silent reverie.

"I think that's a great idea." He states, coming to stand next to Thor, who's idly picking at the fabric of his pants, restless and unaware how to display his frustration without causing harm.

Grinning, Tony waves his hand about and replies matter-of-fact, "When have I ever not provided this team with brilliant ideas?"

Bruce deadpans, "Do you need a list?"

"You wound me and here I was gonna correct all the mistakes in your dissertation." His hands put extra emphasis to his words.

Ready to steer Thor out of the lab, Steve gently places both his palms on his friend's shoulders and leans closer to murmur, "I can make a mean cheeseburger.  _Com'on_ , let's grab a bite. You'll feel better."

Briefly touching the captain's fingertips, he nods and rises from his seat, after having picked the electrodes from his skin with his short-clipped nails.

They walk in amical silence to the kitchen, arms barely brushing as they move, but the proximity calms Thor, allows him a moment to recollect himself and straighten his fretful bearing. He feels almost at ease as he watches the other blond sauntering from cabinet to fridge to kitchen counter to prepare him a hearty meal.

"You should change into something more comfortable, you've been wearing your armor all day." Steve remarks from the stove, holding a spatula in one hand and a pinch of salt between the tips of his thumb and index finger of the other. He throws a glance over his shoulder, continues, "Maybe we can watch a movie or something? You look exhausted."

Thor hums, noticing for the very first time today the ache of his biceps and calves. His battle from earlier today and the excessive testing without barely if any sustenance left him drained.

"Would you mind if I refreshed myself, Steven?" He asks, unconsciously tapping his toe upon the steel railing barbed around the modern kitchen island smack in the middle of the room.

Waving the spatula around in dismissal, Steve scatters a few grains of salt onto the meat and comments without turning around, "You shouldn't even ask me that. Go ahead... Oh." He exclaims as if something just popped up, "Do you want some onion rings, maybe?"

Thor readily agrees to the suggestion and stalks out of the kitchen, agitated with his body odor and the soreness of his limbs all together. He wants a long shower, a fresh set of clothing /perhaps the 'hoodie' Darcy sent him a few weeks ago from London/ and a nice meal with Steven. Afterwards, a mindless feel good movie Clint is so fond of showing him, with action and astounding visual effects, which Tony usually derisively calls amateurish if the film has been out for even a few years. He looks forward to settling down on the couch with his teammate, he concludes as he's stripping himself from his armor and pulls his undershirt over his head. After rubbing his grumbling stomach and collecting the things he wants to wear, Thor soon moves to his private bathroom and drops the clothes unceremoniously onto a white commode, not patient enough to place them down neatly. JARVIS adjusts the temperature of the water to his preferences almost immediately when he steps into the shower and draws the glass door of the cubicle shut. Reaching for his bottle of shampoo with one hand, he hauls the other one through his wet strands of hair and out of his face.

Thor considers which movie he wants to watch specifically, because he's heard Hawkeye's praise for 'Pacific Rim' a few days ago and the compliments somehow stuck. His fingers delve into his hair, kneading the Axe Apollo in and instinctively closes his eyes. What surprises him are the images his mind are projecting onto the darkness of his eyelids, how he sees himself placing an arm around Steve good-naturedly, pulls him closer and closer until the blond tumbles against his chest and smiles his quirky amused smile, as he normally does when Thor pulls something unexpected or acts against regular Midgardian conduct. His thumb strokes the corner of the captain's mouth, once or twice, before moving to one of his dimples. Steve stares at him, continuously, with an affectionate attentiveness in his eyes.

His eyelids snap open, with the snapshot of Steve's face lingering on his retina. He peers down to his half-hard cock and leans forwards, until his forehead bumps into the cold wet tiles of the wall. Perhaps the explanation for his sudden attraction could be attributed to both his powers slipping, - he was worshiped as a god of fertility by the Scandinavians after all and he took great pride in his libido, and to the rise in contact between the team leader and himself. Stinging as it may, the conclusion in his relationship with Jane could influence his newfound pull towards the captain. Thor doesn't regret parting with her however, viewing her friendship as one of the most valuable things he has in his life.

"Would you turn the water to cold, JARVIS? I find myself in need of something chillier to relinquish certain aches." He says, face still plastered to the wall in discomfort.

JARVIS answers accordingly and the pleasant warmth rolling between his shoulder blades suddenly turns freezing .

.

There's a difference between them measured in the width of the sofas' cushions Thor does not dare to cross. On the screen, mechanical creatures wage war amongst sea monsters, and although the scenes are certainly entertaining, he can hardly bring himself to pay attention to the action sequences. Instead, he is painfully aware of every soft gasp snuck past Steve's opened lips in response to the images. When he steals a glance, the tall blond can observe how the rapidly changing lights cascade different blue hues onto the captain's pale skin. His eyes are mirrors and shimmer when brightness falls into them at just the right angle.

Thor doesn't know whether his body -cells, the good doctor Banner explains in the recesses of his mind, are reacting to this Midgardian realm or he's simply paying more attention to every little move Steve makes.

"You okay there, Thor?" He suddenly asks, snapping him out of his thoughts with raised brows.

He scratches the scruff of his chin and finds himself nodding, almost involuntarily, "Well enough, my friend."

Smiling, Steve turns back to the movie and leaves Thor to his quiet observations.

.

Bruce subscribes an experimental diet based on several  components which were deduced as being beneficial to his overall functioning on the basis of meticulous analysis of his blood. Aesir were  _not_  like humans.

Not that Thor needed a reminder of the fact.

Furthermore, Tony declared as he proudly presented his training schedule, the training room has been tweaked to withstand small-scaled lightning attacks and Thor would be monitored an hour a day as he practices with Mjölnir. Also, he had continued, they have deemed the probability of pent-up frustration detrimental to his overall discipline and propose a regime of stress relief.

Clint upon this, incredulously asked if there would be yoga sessions involved in the grand scheme of things.

Quick to reply, Bruce had assured there wouldn't be. However, he was also quick to add, punching bags are obligatory as an increase in hand-to-hand combat.

Thor automatically assumed, correctly, that Steve would be involved.

And that's why he's grappling with the captain on the mats at three in the afternoon. His ponytail threatens to loosen as they desperately claw and push at each other. Forsaken any definite fighting styles, Steve eagerly tries to get a few punches in. His cheek is an ugly red from Thor's knuckles earlier on and the swelling only serves as further motivation to continue. Another quick jabbing punch is blocked by a flat palm against the bone of his wrist, pushed away to forcefully adjust the trajectory. Steve momentarily loses his footing and as his equilibrium rocks, his adversary uses the opportunity to pull him forwards and send him crashing to the floor. However, the soldier expertly catches himself, perched on all fours on the mat, grins despite the pin-pricks of pain he must feel from his battered cheek, and soars upright to pounce onto the taller blond. Thor recognizes the signature move of Natasha in this particular movement, but before he has the time to ponder whether the captain has memorized their most notable battle tactics by heart or has received lessons by the spy, he finds himself with a chest full of twinkling blue eyes and chiseled looks, pushing him down. Arms wind around his neck in a headlock, rock hard biceps choking the oxygen out of his windpipe and he barely realizes they're crashing to the ground, at least not before his back finds itself in collision with the ash-gray mat and his throat free from constriction.

"Natasha  _usually_  snaps their necks before they hit the floor." Steve comments, face flushed and chest heaving.

His eyes are open wide and his heart pounds against the bars of his ribcage, exhilarated. He pushes himself into a sitting position, elbows propped and chin slightly raised. "I am grateful she hasn't taught you the next stage, then."

He chuckles, "I'd never seriously hurt you, buddy." His comment is accompanied by an extended hand.

As he reaches to take the proffered help, another migraine washes over his body, making him drop his arm and clutch his head. Beyond his control, his features scrunch up and a shiver rolls down his spine, slowly and effectively. Steve drops down on a knee immediately and grabs his shoulders, softly shaking him to keep his concentration focused on one point; himself.

"Thor?" He asks gently, fingertips delving into the thin fabric of his cotton shirt. "Thor, keep your eyes open, com'on look at me. Fight it, buddy." And as he looks into Steve's worried face, he can clearly see the elfin mauve tip of the soldier's tongue, flitting over plush of his bottom lip, see the genuine concern in the arch of his brows and the bright blue of his irises.

His pain spasms inside his skull, causing him to break eye contact and groan long and low. Outside a roll of thunder echoes, muted by the sturdy walls of the tower and the sound of his heart beating between his ears. Yet the fingertips on his shoulders are still there and during the entire episode, Steve dutifully stays by his side, believing firmly in Thor and giving him encouragement.

Thor wants to harbor him in his arms for the rest of the day, keep him  _close_ \- close, close, close under the sheets and against his naked skin and he wants until he fears he might combust.

After a minute or two, three, he eventually pulls away and smiles ruefully at the captain, exclaiming he's going to hit the showers and take rest for the remainder of the afternoon.

Steve nods, dazed and gathering his wit, on both of his knees on the mat. His blond hair is tousled and sweat-soaked.

Again, the water of his shower is ice-cold and unforgiving.

.

"You're improving." Bruce compliments, tapping a pen against his scruffy chin as he's talking. Thor also notes how his foot is continuously bumping against the desk, unable to keep completely still.

He nods, "These aches have lessened impressively since I have adopted your schedule, good doctor."

Tony, from somewhere in the back of the lab, obscured by stray engines and heaps of multi-colored cupper wires, laments his choice of words loudly, "Thank you for including me, Barbie.  _Like_ , it means so much to me!"

Pushing the end of the pen against his cheekbone, the doctor rolls his eyes and nudges the tall blond to correct himself before the petulant billionaire threatens to appear from his spot and create a monologue about his contributions.

Thor grins wildly at the idiosyncrasies of his teammates he has come to acknowledge as inherent parts of themselves and yells back, "I would never dare to exclude you from praise, Tony! Your knowledge has helped me tremendously and I am truly grateful!"

"You better be, Prince Charming! I'm not above cutting off ponytails in your sleep, y'know!" After his statement, the pleasant sound of tinkering and metal-on-metal resounds from the back of the lab.

Pleased with himself, the blond turns back to Bruce, who's scribbling equations in a Moleskine notebook, and clears his throat.

"Yes?" He answers, looking at Thor from above the brim of his glasses.

"I was wondering if perhaps some other side-effects might be discussed, doctor Banner." His toes curl in the confines of his sneakers.

Bruce's mouth resembles the shape of an 'o' and he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, suddenly intrigued. Their gazes lock. "Well, this isn't an actual consultation, so no need to be formal, aha.. What side-effects are we talkin' about?"

"Erections." He announces without much decorum.

There's a loud clang at the declaration and Tony could be heard cursing in aggravation. Holding his pen with both of his hands, the doctor arches an eyebrow, leans back in the comfortable leather chair and unconsciously starts nodding, rapid little bobs of his chin. "Oh- well, uhm, I  _didn't actually forsee_.. That's to say. Erections?" He stumbles over his words, nearly snapping the pen in half.

Thor hums in agreement, "I would like to inquire whether they are a result from my lack of control or.."

"Erections are  _usually due to_  a lack of control, Point Break! Hate to break it to ya! But hey, San Fernando Valley is always hiring!" Tony erupts from his spot, his head popping up from behind a large motor engine. "You'd be a star, baby!"

Bruce has turned a strange hue of red and green. "Right. Possible career options aside." His pen falls helplessly from his grasp. "Why would you believe they are a result from your powers?"

Thor tilts his head to the right, a few wayward strands sliding down his cheek. "I am worshiped as the deity of fertility.. At least, this was the case when I last visited Midgard." He scratches his chin idly, "Therefore it is possible..."

Interrupting him, Tony breaks down guffawing and manages to say between loud chuckles, "You.. You believe your dick is  ** _magic_**?! Oh.. Hah.. This.. JARVIS, did you record that?!"

"Don't mind him, Thor." Bruce appeases, complacent as always with a gentle smile. "However, I highly doubt your powers would affect..." He's silent for a moment, pensive and then he seems to have come to a sudden conclusion. "Unless they  _magnify_  your attraction to someone. Do those erections usually.. pop up.." His choice of words makes the billionaire choke on laughter again, "When you're around a particular someone? Or thinking about a particular person?"

His hands fall limb in his lap, bottom lip trembling when the magnitude of Bruce's assumption hits him full-force.

"JARVIS, Thor is having an existential crisis. Suggestions would be nice."

.

It's pouring outside and Clint grimly shuffles the cards, while Natasha clutches her mug of coffee tightly between her slender fingers. Steve shakes his head, uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off the kitchen wall.

"I'll go talk to him." He states, already making his way to the door.

The two spies exchange glances, and after an almost imperceptible raise of the chin by the archer, the other speaks. "You and Thor are  _very_  close, if you don't mind me bringing that to your attention."

His posture obstructs the doorway as he halts and casts a look over his shoulder, "He's, well, not sick. Obviously. I think what would be best for him is some company. 's all."

Clint stacks the deck onto the counter and wears a slanted grin, "You're team leader."

Steve drums his fingers onto the doorframe, "Yeah, I am."

They communicate entire conversations in miniature movements. It's unsettling how they both smirk knowledgeably, as if Steve has his entire story printed on his body.

Droplets splatter against the windows, adding a low key soundtrack to the tower.

"I'll be right back, then" He eventually says, walking through the hallway.

Natasha can't restrain a smile when Clint murmurs, "Puh-lease, take your time, Cap."

.

"Hey-ah, buddy." Steve greets, standing calmly outside of the Asgardian's room. "Mind if I come in?" He asks politely, pulling at a lint on his pants.

Thor is burning under the sheets of his king-sized bed, cradling the back of his head with a pillow, pulled flush against his ears and he's groaning in pain, a horrible backlash from the successes he's had the last few days. His body is slick with sweat and his cock is half-hard and his lungs are scorched by the electricity running rampart within.

The door to his bedroom opens on the captain's request when he hasn't gotten a reply. Upon noticing his friend's discomfort, he rushes to his bedside and cups both of the blond's cheeks to alert him of his presence.

"Thor?! You.. I'll get you some water, you're.. Shit, you're burnin' up." He paws at the bottle of water and fumbles with the cap before finally managing to fill a glass.

He gulps down the water, aware of how some of it streams down his chin, and hands the glass back to Steve, still gasping and with fingers delving into the blankets. "I.. I apologize for the inconvenience.." His words are falling into one another, the sentence stabbed through with needy inhales.

Steve shakes his head, settles down next to him on the bed and leans close. His arms envelop the Asgardian's shoulders, pulling him against the bulk of his chest and grounds him there. "Don't be ridiculous. Try to focus, okay?"

Nodding, Thor squints his eyes shut and concentrates on the undercurrent of power penetrating his dermis, sending his nerve-endings into a frenzy of overexposure. Fingertips smoothen his unruly strands of hair, pushing them out of the way, brushing his skin gently. Steve's breath fans his forehead and he feels himself relaxing, feels the wave of electricity pass and fade. Eventually the sun manages to peek through the assembled clouds and the rain lessens into a faint drizzle.

" _You okay_ , Thor?" He murmurs, still holding him, knowing how touch can be beneficial in stressful situations.

Hands splay over his elbows and he's aware of how Thor leans his head into his collarbone. "I am in your debt. For your patience." Hair tickles the bare skin of his neck. "For your kindness, captain."

His breath is caught between his teeth as he searches for the right words. "No.. No, problem at all. Glad to help, really."

His fingers nestle into the fabric of his teammate's shirt automatically.

Thor shuffles free, stares at him with his kind eyes and tousled long hair framing his features. "Would you  _indulge me_?" He asks, carefully placing the palm of his hand on top of Steve's. "Would you stay?"

He doesn't need to think twice, "Of course.." His smile is wide and genuine, "I'd like to  _stay_." He's inching closer, feeling the cold of Thor's hand morphing into his usual warmth. "Here."

Their lips are barely brushing, but the buttons of their noses bump into each other, and Thor grins gleefully as he rubs his nose onto Steve's once more.

"Stay, then." He whispers before kissing Steve, hand moving to grab his wrist and pull him completely onto the bed, out of his sitting position with legs dangling off the mattress.

.

"It's been a while." Steve whispers against Thor's temple, fingertips drawing invisible lines from his sternum down his chest to his navel, tangling into the coarse dark blond pubic hairs which surround his belly button. "You haven't gotten any of those headaches for a long, long time." His lips move against the sensitive skin, the subtle yet overpowering gesture makes Thor chuckle deeply.

He responds lowly, "Indeed. I must have excellent tutors when it comes to discipline, Steven." His own fingers start to stroke the sharp of his lover's elbow, idly tracing the marking of the bone underneath the flesh. He tilts his head away from Steve's pliant mouth and looks at him wholly, smiling.

Made aware of the captain's fingers on his abdomen by their ministrations, Thor pushes his forehead against Steve's and swallows to ease his tight throat. Steve goes down further, until he reaches his lover's half-hard cock and there's something unusual about the smirk gracing the captain's mouth. He starts jerking him off, a few quick tugs at first that make Thor slump his shoulders into the plush pillows of the soldier's bed and make him lean his head back. Aside of him, Steve moves, pulls the blankets off of their warm, naked bodies, and repositions himself so he's directly between Thor's slightly spread legs. He's on his knees and bows forwards, hands settled on the hipbones of his lover, his back bent and a tad bulb, his breath is scorching on the inside of Thor's right thigh. Slow presses of the lips constitute a path towards the Asgardian's scrotum.

"Steve.." His breath hitches, gets caught between the rows of his teeth. "Oh.." He repeats the same syllable a couple of times when the captain's mouth caresses the length of his cock. "More.. I beg of you.." Before he can help himself, he finds himself grabbing at the short blond strands belonging to his captain.

His tongue flicks out to swipe wet stripes over Thor's balls, his nostrils are flooding with a sweaty scent and his hands move on their own accord, rubbing and plain touching, more and more skin. In response to the ticklish feeling of Steve's fingertips on his ribs, he starts to move both his legs and his head involuntarily. Smiling around the head of Thor's erection, he begins sucking in earnest, gradually pulling more of his lover's shaft into his mouth, onto the softness of his flat tongue. He hollows his cheeks and Thor bucks up, wanting more.

He lets go of his cock, stares up at the Asgardian, who regards him in turn with half-lidded eyes, and says in a throaty voice, "Discipline, remember?"

"Apologies, love.." His chest is rising and falling at a steady, quick pace. There's a satisfied 'ah' coming from him when Steve rubs the head of his erection between his forefinger and thumb, pressing down gently. His face disappears between Thor's legs again and soon his tongue is lapping at Thor's scrotum and there is nothing but a wholesome sensation of bliss, slowly stacking onto itself.

When Steve greedily begins lapping at his cock again, he has to control himself lest his pelvis suddenly snaps forwards in a natural reflex to demand more. They've been having sex a couple of times during their three month relationship, especially since of late, but Thor's aware of Steve's limits and he would hate even to hurt him accidentally during one of their trysts.

He abandons his lover's dick and arches his back as he moves again, until he's directly above of Thor with the inside of his knees plastered against the outside of the other's. Thor cups his ass and mercilessly ruts against him, eyes squinted shut and face flushed and long, long hair all over his cheeks and lips and forehead. Steve can't catch his breath, grinding back in tandem, clutching at Thor's strong, broad shoulders and emitting small, quick noises. His kisses pepper sweat-slick blond locks and warm skin. He's keening lowly as he rocks into him harder and comes first, with Thor reaching his peak slowly after.

"Woah.. We.. Need to do this more.." He stutters out, still on top of Thor and feeling languid, boneless.

In response, he barks out a long laugh and nuzzles his chin into the soft blond hairs on top of his hair. "Gladly, love. It is highly beneficial to my self-control."

Steve nips at his collarbone, "Yeah, I agree. What's it call'd?" He smiles against shining skin, "Rewards, yeah, rewards are good in training schedules."

Thor places the palm of his hand flat onto the back of Steve's head. " _Verily_."

.

Clint leans into Natasha at breakfast, murmurs softly, "Called it."

She throws a cool glance at the two blonds feeding each other waffles, joking together and laughing almost silently. "Didn't know it was a competition." The corners of her mouth quirk upwards in a phantom of a smile.

Tony, who's reading an article about Quantum Physics on his tablet, looks up disoriented, pawing at his mug of lukewarm coffee and mumbles, "Thor's dick knew before you knew, Legolas."

"Some people are trying to eat here." Bruce groans out, holding his sandwich a couple of inches away from his mouth. "And not discuss our teammates' bedtime activities."

"That's how we're going to call sex now? Honestly?" Tony snickers.

Grinning, the archer props his elbows onto the surface of the table and retorts, "Bon Appetit, doctor. Don't let sex and love spoil your fulfilling meal."

Thor and Steve don't notice the quarrel threatening to erupt at the other end of the table, they're too busy experimenting with the chocolate sauce Tony bought in a small shop near Queens.

.


End file.
